Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,92

it. How she’d survived after all she’d lost. And I, blinded to anything else but Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, had only added to it. These happy tears were for me, but I didn’t know if I deserved them.

I said, “I found him. Mom, I found him, and I know I should have listened, I know I should have trusted you more, but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was lost in my own head, and I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could keep it away from you. Keep all the death and blood and fire. That if I could do this on my own, you wouldn’t feel like you were being torn apart.”

And she said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. You’re home. You’re home, and all the rest will come later.” She pulled back, taking my face in her hands. Her smile was watery, her cheeks flushed. Her blue eyes were so much like my own, and I wished I could be as brave as she was. As forgiving. And, as she was a mother, she said, “You’re too skinny. Why are you so skinny? Didn’t you eat? I’ll feed you. I’ll feed you until you’re sick of food, and then I’ll make you eat more.”

I laughed then, at the ridiculousness of it all. And if it came out cracked and soft, then it was just for us.

She kept ahold of me as the others came, never letting me get too far away from her.

Mark was first. My father’s brother. He looked different, though it wasn’t entirely physical. He was a Beta again. He seemed calmer, more at ease. He pressed his cheek against mine, rubbing his scent into me. I sucked in a breath, and I remembered being a kid, maybe five or six, and my uncle putting me up on his shoulders, my legs draped over his chest. “You ready to fly?” he’d said, and I crowed with my arms over my head. He’d run then, run through the forest, faster than any human, the wind whipping through my hair. He’d been laughing, and when we’d come back, my father had smiled at us, arms over his chest.

Mark said, “I’m so happy you’re home. After all this time. Here you are.”

“Here I am,” I whispered, and then he was with Gordo, kissing him soundly, lips smacking. Gordo grumbled at him, but he didn’t mean it. He was smiling, the lines around his eyes and mouth deep and kind.

Jessie came next, standing in front of me, looking me up and down critically. “Bennett.”

“Alexander.”

“You’re up to your neck in shit.”

“I figured as much.”

And then she jumped on me, wrapping her legs around my hips, her chin hooked over my shoulder. “Dumbass,” she muttered against my skin. I spun her around, her hair smelling like lilacs.

Dominique was there, eyes alight. They were orange, and it was a piece of a puzzle I never knew we were missing. She was packpackpack, and I wondered what she sounded like when she sang to the moon now that she had found healing. She spoke in her whiskey-smooth voice, her lips quirking. “I’m not going to jump on you.”

I set her girlfriend down. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure, white boy. You’re as thin as a whisper. I don’t think you can handle me.”

I grinned at her. “We could always find out.” I held out my arms.

“Another time.” She leaned in and kissed me on the corner of my mouth. “Welcome back, Carter.” She stepped back, Jessie taking her by the hand as she wiped her eyes.

Robbie nearly tripped down the steps. The haunted look that had been a permanent fixture since he’d returned to Green Creek was gone. The recovery of his memories had taken a toll on him, but he’d had the pack to hold him up as he found his place again. He was shaking his head, and before he came to me, he touched Kelly’s face, fingers trailing along his jaw. “You did it,” he said quietly.

Kelly nodded. “Told you I would.”

Robbie turned to me. He puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

I blinked. “Uh. Okay? Well. You can try, but unless you learned some new shit while I was gone, you’re going down, Fontaine.”

And then he was in my arms. “You don’t know what it was like,” he whispered. “You can’t do that again. Not to Kelly. Not to Joe. They need you, Carter. And we